Arilyn half-dragged Danilo up the walk. Raising the knocker, she tapped it briskly, using the code taught her by Nain Keenwhistler, a member of the adventuring party known as the Company of Crazed Venturers. The code would certainly be recognized in this household: Loene had been rescued from slavery by Nain, and for many years she had run with the Crazed Venturers.
The door cracked open. “Yes?”
The raspy tones identified the speaker as Elliot Graves, Loene’s servant. No other voice could sound both so pompous and so whisky-soaked. “It’s me, Graves. Arilyn Moonblade.”
“Where?” The door opened wider, and a thin, wary face peered past into the courtyard. Arilyn didn’t doubt that Graves had his mace handy. He was as skilled a fighter as he was a chef, and he didn’t look at all pleased that anyone had breached the walled court.
“I’m right here, Graves, only invisible. I’ve got a friend with me, and he’s badly wounded. Please let us in.”
The urgency in her voice convinced the servant. “One at a time,” he said, opening the door just wide enough for one person to edge through.
Arilyn pushed Danilo before her. He fell face down onto the ornate Calimshite carpet. “That’s one,” the prone noble observed in a drunken tone.
The half-elf brushed past Graves and knelt by the fallen man. Sensing Arilyn pass, the servant slammed and bolted the door behind her.
“What’s all this?” an imperious voice demanded.
Arilyn looked up. Loene was poised on the stairway, wrapped in night robes of pale gold silk and holding a jeweled dagger in each hand. The woman’s dark blond hair hung free in a wild mop about her shoulders, and her large hazel eyes darted about the empty hall. Once enslaved as a “pleasure girl” for her exquisite face and form, Loene had become a skilled fighter and adventurer. In middle life, the woman was still both beautiful and deadly. She had the tawny grace of a desert cat, and at the moment she looked every bit as dangerous.
The words tumbled out. “It’s Arilyn Moonblade. I’ve got a friend with me. He’s been poisoned.”
“Get my potion case,” Loene instructed the servant, not taking her eyes from the hall carpet. Graves melted away, still holding his mace at the ready.
“Well, well. Arilyn Moonblade. Since when did you start resorting to invisibility spells?” Loene asked, descending the stairs with catlike grace. She lay down her jeweled weapons on a marble-topped table at the foot of the stairs.
“It wasn’t my first choice.”
“I’ll bet.” Loene agreed dryly. The woman twisted the magic ring on her hand, murmuring the command that would dispel Danilo’s enchantment. As she did, two outlines appeared on the expensive carpet, gradually filling in until they took the form of a large, prone man and a half-elven adventurer. Loene’s lovely, curious eyes met Arilyn’s. “Ah. There you are. You look terrible, by the way.”
She came forward and crouched at Arilyn’s side, touching henna-tipped fingers to the fallen man’s pulse. “It’s strong and regular. His color is good, his breathing regular. What happened to him? Poison, you said?”
“It’s a long story,” Arilyn said tersely, her anxious gaze fixed on her companion.
“Hmmm. I can’t wait to hear it. Oh, thank you, Graves,” Loene said, accepting a box from the servant. “Just who is your friend?”
“Danilo Thann.”
“Dan—” Loene’s incredulous echo broke off into derisive laughter. “Girl, you picked a strange time to start trusting magic-users. His drawing room tricks misfire more often than Shou rockets. Oof. And he’s heavy. Give me a hand here.”
The two adventurers managed to roll the young nobleman over. Loene gently lifted one eyelid, then the other. After a moment’s speculation, she selected a small blue vial from the box of potions and handed it to Arilyn. “An antidote,” Loene said. “Very rare. Works amazingly fest.”
The half-elf quickly uncorked the vial, raised Danilo’s head, and held the potion to his lips. His eyes flickered open.
“Pretend it’s rivengut,” Arilyn advised him with a touch of grim humor.
The mention of his favorite libation rallied Danilo sufficiently to sip some of the potion. Somewhat revived, he propped himself up on one elbow and looked around the hall.
“I feel better,” he announced, sounding surprised.
“You’re sure?” Arilyn pressed.
“Almost as good as new,” he promised, surreptitiously showing her his palm. The brand had faded noticeably. Arilyn’s shoulders sagged in relief.
Loene sat back on her heels, a speculative smile playing about her lips as she watched the scene before her. She’d known Arilyn for years, and never had she seen the half-elf so rattled. No potion or antidote worked so quickly—Arilyn should have known that—and her usually sharp elven senses should have caught the scent of the apricot brandy that was the vial’s only ingredient.
Ah, but there’s a story here, Loene thought. If she were to admit to a weakness, it would be her inordinate fondness for interesting and unusual tales. An unexpected bounty had been delivered to her door this night. “I suppose explanations must wait for morning,” she said, her voice tinged with regret. “Graves, would you see our guests to their beds?”
“One bed,” Arilyn corrected.
“I say. That might be expecting a bit much from the healing potion,” Danilo warned her.
Arilyn shot him a look that would have frozen a wiser man, then turned away. “With your permission, Loene, I’ll leave Danilo in your care. I must attend to urgent business.”
Loene stood and placed her hands on her hips. “Forget it, elf. Of course I’ll keep your friend until he can travel,” she huffed, “but just you try to leave without telling me what’s going on and I’ll nail your blue hide to the wall.”
Arilyn rose with a sigh of resignation. “All right. At this point, I don’t suppose a short delay can hurt too much. You’d better break out the sherry and plan to sit for a while.”
“I keep a full bottle on hand, just in case you decide to make one of these impromptu visits,” Loene purred, smiling with satisfaction. “See to our other guest, won’t you, Graves?”
“As you wish, madame.”
The woman and the half-elf linked arms and headed into Loene’s study to exchange tales of adventure.
Danilo sat crosslegged on the carpet, watching them go. He noted with a purely personal satisfaction that Arilyn shot a final, concerned look back at him before she left the room. A pointedly cleared throat captured his attention, and he looked up at the servant. The mace still hung at the man’s belt, a jarring note amid the elegant furnishings of the entrance hall.
“If you think you can walk, sir, I’ll see you to your room,” the servant said. When Danilo nodded, Graves bent down and plucked the nobleman from the carpet, none too gently.
Danilo took the servant’s arm, making a show of leaning on him as they walked slowly up the stairs. A pair of giant black mastiffs followed them, eyeing Danilo with wary interest. The nobleman fleetingly hoped that the dogs were well fed. He noted that the wiry servant was surprisingly strong, and that the man’s raspy, whiskey-drenched voice and eyes the color of cold steel seemed more suited to the battlefield than the Castle Ward. It was a reassuring observation, and Danilo suddenly felt a little better about what he had to do. If he had to leave Arilyn for a time, at least she would be well protected.
The dandy let Graves lead him into a richly appointed guest room and lower him into a chair. “Is there anything else that sir requires?” the servant asked coolly.
“Sleep should do it,” Danilo assured him. “That was a dandy potion, really.”
“Very good, sir.” The servant closed the door firmly behind him.
Danilo listened until the servant’s footsteps died away. When all was silent, he rose, reaching into the magic bag at his waist. He took from it his spellbook and a length of rope. He quickly studied the runes on one of the pages, memorizing the complex spell he had to cast. Finally sati
sfied, he slipped the spellbook back into this bag.
Not a trace of his lethargy remained. The effects of the assassin’s poison had faded long before they’d reached Loene’s house, although Danilo had maintained a facade of weakness in order to get Arilyn out of the inn and away from an assassin who could disappear from a locked room.
He threw open a window, secured the rope to a bedpost, and lowered himself to the courtyard. After his experience on the ledge of the inn, he was not about to attempt a levitation spell from a second-story window, antidote or not. By the way, Danilo mused, I must find out what was in that concoction. It was quite tasty.
He reached into his sack for the spell components and went through the complex patterns of gestures and chants. After rising into the night and over the wall, he floated down, featherlike, to the street beyond. At last, quietly, he strode to the front of the house and dispelled the enchantment that made his horse invisible.
The edge of the night sky was just beginning to fade to silver when Danilo started west on Waterdeep Way. Just down the street, a few contented patrons were leaving Mother Tathlorn’s House of Pleasure and Healing, a combination festhall and spa that was very plush and very popular. That was a sure sign that morning was near.
Danilo Thann gave his horse’s reins a sharp shake, and he rode quickly toward nearby Blackstaff Tower.
Ten
As he rode, Danilo pondered all that had transpired during the night. He would have given much to have heard Arilyn’s version of their story. He did not imagine that he fared well in the telling.
Danilo was accustomed to being thought a fool. Even within his own family, he bore his father’s stern disapproval and the scorn of his older brothers. This he accepted as part of his role, but when he saw a foppish Waterdhavian dandy reflected back to him from the mirror of Arilyn’s elven eyes, he found that he had little stomach for the charade.
Perhaps it was time to make some changes.
Riding swiftly, Danilo soon reached the home of the archmage. Blackstaff Tower looked impenetrable. It was, but only to the uninitiated. A series of powerful magical wards and devices, as well as a twenty-foot stone wall, protected the tower. By all appearances, the place had no doors at all and windows only on the upper floors.
Danilo dismounted at the gate and muttered a cantrip, casting an easy spell that would keep his horse tethered. Another quick spell opened the gate. Danilo strode quickly through the courtyard, and, after knocking on the tower and softly speaking his name, he walked through an invisible door into the wizard’s reception hall.
Khelben “Blackstaff” Arunsun descended the spiral staircase to meet his nephew. “I see you’ve finally managed the door,” he observed.
Danilo grinned and rubbed an imaginary lump on his head. “Missed it enough times, wouldn’t you say?”
“Indeed. Well, come up, come up. I’ve been waiting for your report,” Khelben said, gesturing for Danilo to follow him up to the parlor.
Steaming cups of roasted chicory rested on a small table between two comfortable chairs. Danilo cast his a longing look but insisted, “I haven’t much time. Arilyn is at Loene’s house on Waterdeep Way. I need to get back before I’m missed.”
“Of course.” Khelben settled down and took up his cup. “Have you anything concerning the assassin’s identity?”
“Not yet. Back in Evereska, Arilyn was followed by a thug from Waterdeep. In his possession was a snuffbox bearing the sigil of Perendra.”
Khelben choked on a mouthful of chicory, and Danilo nodded grimly. “In answer to your next question, yes, I’m sure it was Perendra’s mark. She was one of the first to die, wasn’t she?”
“Yes,” Khelben said as soon as he could speak. “Unlike the later victims, she was not marked with the brand. It is possible that her death was not the work of our assassin. Did that man admit to killing Perendra?”
“No. He claimed he’d gotten the box from an elf. He was obviously enspelled to die before he could reveal the villain’s name. Arilyn, I assume, intends to track him or her down.”
“Good. Stay with her as she does. Now the sword. Tell me everything you can think of.”
Danilo perched on the edge of his chair, took a deep breath, and spoke fast. “It’s elvencrafted and very old, made of some dull but very strong metal I don’t recognize. There are runes down its length—Espruar, I think, though a form I’ve never seen—and also on the sheath. There’s a large gem on the hilt, and it—”
“Stop!” Khelben demanded. Alarm etched itself across the wizard’s face as he leaned intently toward his nephew. “There’s a moonstone in the hilt? Are you sure?”
“No, it’s a topaz.”
“Did she say anything about this stone?” Khelben urged.
“Actually, yes. She told me that her teacher, Kymil Nimesin, had it set in the hilt to balance the blade.”
“I see.” Khelben relaxed. “Good. I didn’t know Arilyn was trained by Kymil Nimesin, but it figures. He’s one of the best armsmasters in the Realms, and he works for the Harpers from time to time. Go on.”
“The sword cuts through metal and bone as if it were slicing a summermelon. Its strike is unusually fast, although I think a good deal of that is Arilyn. According to her, the sword cannot shed innocent blood. Just how it ascertains innocence, I don’t know. It warns of danger—”
“How?”
“It glows. It also glows sometimes when Arilyn draws it, but sometimes it doesn’t. I can’t figure out any kind of pattern to that.”
“And if anyone else were to draw it?”
“They would get fried like a flounder,” Danilo concluded flatly.
“Of course,” Khelben muttered. “It is a hereditary blade, after all.” He arched an eyebrow at Danilo. “You didn’t find this out through personal experience, I trust?”
“Unfortunately, I did. Fortunately, I barely touched it.”
Khelben chuckled at Danilo’s droll tone, but quickly sobered. “Anything else?
“It can also warn Arilyn of danger by sending dreamwarnings.”
“Interesting. All right, what else?”
Danilo told his uncle what had transpired, starting with the inn near Evereska and describing the mysterious assault at the House of Good Spirits.
“Poison,” muttered Khelben, visibly annoyed with his own lack of perception. “Of course. Why do you think the assassin attacked you? Have you reason to think that your alliance to the Harpers is suspected?”
The young man looked a little chagrined. “No, but my sense of chivalry certainly is. There was but one bed, and I had it. The chamber was very dark, and I suppose the assassin presumed that a gentleman would take the floor.”
“I see. You’re all right now?”
“I didn’t get much of the poison. If you’re through, I have a few quick questions.” Danilo leveled his gaze on Khelben. “Why are you so concerned with Arilyn’s sword? What does it have to do with this assassin?”
“It is possible that there is no connection,” Khelben admitted. “Given the sword’s history, however, it was something that I could not ignore.”
“I think it is time for a history lesson. In more ways than one, I have a personal interest in this.” The young man spoke quietly, but he held up his branded palm for Khelben to see. “But please, make it quick.”
Khelben nodded. “Yes, it’s time you knew.” He passed one hand over his salt-and-pepper hair and took a deep breath.
“Before you were born, Arilyn’s parents inadvertently used the magic of the sword to open a portal between these mountains and the elven kingdom of Evermeet. The damnable gate stayed open, and the best any of us could do was obscure it and move it elsewhere. The elves ordered Z’beryl to dismantle the sword. Arilyn’s father took the magic moonstone away with him. As it is today, the moonblade carries potent magic. Restored, it could be used to unveil the gate to Evermeet.”
Khelben concluded his terse recitation with a sigh. “So there it is. If there was a ch
ance that someone knew of this gate and was after Arilyn for her sword, we had to know about it.”
“I see,” Danilo said, though his mind was racing through all that Khelben had told him. Given the fabled riches of the elven kingdom of Evermeet, an open portal would be an invitation to plunder. The elves of Evermeet were fiercely reclusive, and the island was guarded by the powerful elven navy of Queen Amlauruil, by lethal coral reefs, by hosts of mysterious sea creatures allied with the elves, and by ever-shifting energy fields that could reduce an invading ship to ashes and seafoam. In comparison to these defenses, any guard that could be posted at the magic portal would seem a small obstacle. Secrecy was the best protection for the gate to Evermeet, for if knowledge of this portal spread, the last stronghold of the elves would be compromised and the very existence of the dwindling race threatened. Danilo wondered how Arilyn would react to the knowledge that she was in part the keeper of the elven kingdom.
“By the way,” Danilo added, “why didn’t you tell me that Arilyn was elven?”
“A half-elf. Her father was human, more or less.” Khelben said. “Whenever I see her, she’s usually passing as human.”
“Indeed. She was a Sembian courtesan when we met. Great disguise,” Danilo reminisced with a grin. “I managed to recognize her from Rafe Silverspur’s ring, and, believe it or not, from your portrait.”
Khelben smiled sourly at his nephew’s good-natured insult. “Which reminds me: according to your mother, my esteemed brother-in-law is none too happy with his ‘shiftless son’ for taking off with ‘some fancy pleasure girl.’ You might check in with him when time permits.”
“Another lecture from dear father. The gods know I’ve been such a disappointment to him,” Danilo drawled flippantly.
Khelben eyed the young man keenly, sensing a new note in his act. “Thinking of quitting?”
“What, being a disappointment?”
“No. Playing the fool in the service of the Harpers.”
Elfshadow Page 16
